Nightcall
by Varmint
Summary: Otar Botkoveli and Adam Jensen were not supposed to have a friendship. This friendship should not be so good. And this friendship, certainly, should not go any further than that. But Adam wants to be selfish, at least once in his life. Otar/Adam rare-pair! One-shot!


Small word of warning, I am new to the Deux Ex franchise and have only truly played Mankind Divided. I watched the playthrough of Human Revolution, because of technological limitations pertaining to my busted PS3. But I don't know much about the rest of the world aside from what I've seen in Mankind Divided.

I mostly write for the Naruto anime, although I branch out from time to time- like I'm doing right now. My expertise has become one of rare-pairs. And as I am a sucker for pleasing everyone, while I was playing MD my Adam wound up being the kind that accidentally aided Otar rise to the top of the Dvali Organization. And, quite frankly, I kind of ship them together in that hopeless "this'll bite us in the ass" kind of way from the fundamental clash between a government agent and a crime boss having any kind of relationship- be it friendship or more.

Still, I bring you this small one-shot in the hopes of bringing some enjoyment to whoever decides that this odd ship is worth giving a chance.

~/~/~/~/~

"Ah, Mister Jenson!"

Otar Botkoveli's voice had always ignited the unwelcome sensation of a shiver running up his spine. Adam had not been able to completely understand it in the beginning- even now he was confused as to why, exactly, hearing the criminal ringleader's confident tone of voice, made his body _react_.

Every time he wound up visiting the Red Queen, somehow, Otar would know that he was in. It didn't matter what night he happened to come in on, it was as if the man was always around. Not just that, but it was as if Otar was never busy when he ended up appearing within the... _fine establishment. _No matter whenever Adam appeared, there Otar Botkoveli happened to just be- prepared to offer a stiff drink and a listening ear to anything Adam wanted to tell him.

"Shall it be three fingers of whiskey yet again?"

Adam knew that even though Otar was asking if this was what he wanted, the man had only brought vodka with him. The last three times this had happened, Otar had always gone through with the same motions. He always brought in vodka, even when he very well understood that this was not Jenson's preferred type of alcohol. And he never went out to find the whiskey- it was vodka or vodka.

"You know I'll accept anything as long as it's free." Adam commented with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

With a small chuckle, Otar made his way towards the small cabinet in the right corner of the room. From within, he pulled out two tumblers so they could drink before any more time was wasted.

The last time this had happened, they had only been able to share one stiff drink and a small update on Otar's (mostly legal) business before Jenson had been forced to leave yet again. Granted, the last time he had wound up visiting the Red Queen before nightfall and had needed to leave early on account of a lead he had needed to follow early the next morning.

He had promised to stick around a bit longer next time around.

Just what in the world he was doing making such promises to the indisputable leader of a crime family, Adam wasn't completely certain. Just like he wasn't sure why in the world he didn't feel guilty at all for doing _nothing_ about Otar's criminal empire.

He knew, just like he was sure Botkoveli himself knew, that he could take these meetings to gather important information. Because of their shared past, there was a certain kind of honesty between them that was completely novel to them both. Adam was the honorable TF29 operative that didn't work organized crime. Otar was the equally honorable ringleader of an organized crime family. They were _supposed_ to be on opposing sides. But they had been open with one another from the very beginning- their interests were not urgently contentious.

In the back of his mind, he knew there would come a day where they would undoubtedly have to answer for this ill-advised friendship. Both he and Otar would have to look at one another as the enemies they were supposed to be, rather than the friends they were. But today wasn't that day. And if they were lucky, that day wouldn't come any time soon.

Once they were both seated in the stiff yet somewhat comfortably plush, black and red, chairs ('club chairs', Máša Kadlek had told him during one of his many visits), Otar served their drinks. After that was done, he offered one glass to Adam, kept the second to himself, and they settled in.

The booming bass of the Red Queen was nothing more than a whispered rhythm within this specific room, small yet luxurious. It was Otar's favorite, apparently, for when he visited the owner of the nightclub, and had been designed to be mostly sound-proof from both sides. He had been told that it was most used for whenever Otar wanted to speak with his old friend, but the conversation wasn't truly 'business' oriented. Adam had a hunch that the room was used for more _intimate_ activities from time to time- he had not missed the bottle of lubrication by the nightstand beside the rather comfortable looking bed.

They both clinked their glasses together before downing their respective drink.

_"E__s ra aris_?"

The burst of Georgian was nothing new to hear, but the intonation was off- alarmed, even. The Task-Force agent decided to ignore it, though, and instead busied himself with the harsh vodka that singed his throat on its descent.

By the time the burn had begun to die down, as his vision became somewhat hazy, Adam felt the softest touch on his neck. This caused him to jump slightly, completely unused to touching or being touched by others.

"What happened to your neck?"

Adam was caught off guard by the question. Just like he had been caught off guard by Otar touching him. And he was thrown for a loop for a moment- there was nothing wrong with his- oh!

Clearing his throat, Adam tried to ignore the warmth that was beginning to spread from the thick pads of Otar's fingertips into his neck- had he been that cold this whole time?

"Misunderstanding with some police officers." He grunted, keeping his gaze on the empty tumbler within his right hand. "Radio said there was an augmented citizen acting up. They assumed it was me."

The partners had merely been doing their jobs. As atrocious as it was to admit this, they lived within a world where the police had a right to enforce strong-arming a specific sector of society because of rampant fear. Sure, these two could have been abusive officers that took advantage of their current social situation to hurt others under the guise of following orders. But Adam liked to believe that these were just professionals accomplishing their objectives.

"They had an EMP taser- but they only really got me in the neck. I'm mostly fine."

It was a new invention that had recently become part of the police officer's regulation kits. The purpose of them was to directly hit an augmented person directly, causing their augmentations to shut down as their nervous systems were affected. Was it completely safe and humane? That's what the law said. Was it painful? Well, he apparently still sported the bruise, if Otar had managed to find the bruise that had formed.

"You got away?" Otar's voice was soft now, much like the caress of his fingers over the spot where the taser's prongs had impaled his skin. "These are clear burn marks."

With a soft sigh, Adam allowed his head to hang. "Yeah... They're used on the regular populace."

Otar hissed out suddenly, letting Adam know that he saw the danger of the new technology being utilized on people that weren't heavily augmented Task-Force agents.

"_Cowards_."

"Yeah."

They both fell silent afterwards, Adam continuing to think about the small confrontation he had managed to escape from with only one burn mark. He hadn't gotten to see the exact suspect that they had mistaken him with, but he knew that, supposedly, it had been a man that had stolen from a supermarket. He didn't know the full story, but to him it sounded like someone that had been desperate and hungry enough to steal food.

This was real life.

Nobody that had gotten augmented had asked for police brutality and social isolation. Yet that was what they had been given. Adam was strong, both mentally and physically... but it was terrifying to think that some of the things he was put through were the very same things _citizens_ were subjected to on a regular basis. And all because of something that, often times, was a medical procedure to increase quality of life.

The haze that had come over his vision was gone by this point- it never lasted more than a few seconds after a simple drink. Because of this, he knew that his body was already burning through the alcohol he had been given, so he made to turn to Otar and ask him for another shot. Tomorrow was a Saturday and Miller didn't want to see him in the office until at least after lunchtime- he could indulge himself a bit in the company of vodka and Otar Botkoveli.

His petition for another pour was lost on him, though, when a pair of thin, somewhat cracked, lips pressed a slow, soft kiss to the burn mark on his neck.

Adam blinked. His arm hung suspended in the air, still holding onto the glass tumbler in his hand. He was so shocked by Otar's actions that he was left frozen.

The gangster didn't move away. Instead, he shifted his body so that their chairs were closer to each other, apparently taking Adam's lack of reaction as permission to go further.

Another kiss, just as soft, was pressed into the spot. Then a heavy hand dragged its way up Adam's left leg, settling on his thigh, just as a warm tongue gave one tentative lap to his burnt skin.

Adam opened his mouth, but his breath was still coming disjointed. He wasn't able to say the name, even though his jaw moved to speak.

This time, as the hand on his leg began to glide up and down his thigh, a thick, heavy arm wound around Adam's shoulders, pulling him in even closer.

A wave of warmth washed over him at that moment, bringing with it a welcomed sense of acceptance. Adam knew that he should stop Otar right then and there; stop their relationship before it could become any more complicated than it already was.

As the hand on his thigh began to crawl up, nearing the point of no return, Adam finally found his voice.

"Otar."

There was a second where time seemed to hang suspended. All movement ceased from Otar's part, throwing the room into a deafening silence Adam was suddenly hyper-aware of.

"I can stop." Otar stated after that second passed, slowly retracting himself from Adam's personal space. "There are more than enough reasons for this to not go any further. I can understand if you do not want more of me- just like I understand if you would consider it smart to cease any communication with me. Just tell me- I will not discuss."

Otar was right: there _were_ more than enough reasons for this stop right now. The most obvious reason was their opposing positions in regards to the law. But that wasn't the only one: They were both males in a highly conservative country that had only recently began to accept _alternate persuasions_, Adam was heavily augmented while Otar was all natural, and their ages, while not shockingly different, were separate enough to speak of a noticeable age difference.

None of that mattered, though. Not to Adam. He didn't actually care about any of that. All he cared about was the way Otar made him feel- how _safe_ he was when they met in this small space.

He could come to regret this... but that was a problem for another time.

"There is a bed," Adam coughed softly, craning his neck to the side so he could force his eyesight away from the cautious gaze of the Dvali gangster. "right there."

A heavy, calloused hand grabbed a hold of his chin, forcing Adam to turn his head back to Otar. Instead of having to meet the man's gaze, his breath was stolen away by a long, heavy kiss. And the hand on his leg finally reached its initial destination.

Completely unused to the touch of another person, Adam couldn't stop himself from whining at the sensation. But he soon busied himself with kissing back, just as hungry and eager as Otar was.

This was wrong, he knew. But he wanted it. And Otar did too.

Just for tonight, he'd allow himself to be selfish.

~/~/~/~/~

I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. Please review and tell me what you all thought of this rare-pair! Maybe, in the future, if there's enough interest, I'll write a smutty continuation for this scene.


End file.
